


Well Someone's Got To Look Out For You

by stan_of_many



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Whump, Arthur tries to be tough, Coughing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Merlin is a good friend, Merlin is a good servant, Merlin is always the sick one why not give Arthur a turn, Morgana is still sweet, No Slash, No Spoilers, Sick Arthur, Sickfic, Uther Pendragon's A+ parenting, Uther cares, no beta we die like men, sick, we stan Gwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stan_of_many/pseuds/stan_of_many
Summary: "'I am not ill!' The prince’s voice was louder than necessary, 'it’s just a bit of a headache, I’m not a girl Merlin, I can handle it.' He turned and stalked back to the hall, leaving Merlin to follow him, lips thinned in annoyance and worry."In which Arthur can't be ill because Uther demands his presence and he's the future king of Camelot and Merlin is a good friend who knows when someone has reached their limit and is determined to help a friend even when he won't help himself.
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon & Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Well Someone's Got To Look Out For You

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes peoples. 
> 
> I feel like Merlin is always the delicate one getting sick and while I don't think it's unrealistic, it's time to give our sturdy prince Arthur a turn to be more vulnerable. 
> 
> This is not set in a specific season, in fact, I don't think it can be. We have season 1 caring Morgana, with about a season 3 level Arthur and Merlin friendship, and some definite Arwen bits with the sweet awkwardness where they like each other but haven't quite admitted it yet. So kindly overlook these discrepancies and enjoy. 
> 
> I actually love how the show portrayed Uther Pendragon because, while he's obviously not a good guy, he has enough good qualities that I couldn't wholeheartedly hate him like I wanted to. I guess that probably came out in this fic where (slight spoiler) everything that happens basically his fault but he also cares a great deal about Arthur, even if he's not very good at showing it. Do with that what you will.
> 
> This was originally going to be fairly short but it just kinda...wrote so, yeah.

It wasn’t like waking up Arthur wasn’t _usually_ a complete pain, Merlin conceded as he struggled with the crown prince of Camelot, but today he seemed to be about as stubbornly clinging to sleep as he could get.

The prince had left the feast somewhat earlier than usual the night before, which Merlin credited to the amount of wine he had drunk, but hangover or not, sleeping in was not an option today. Three full days of important peace treaty talks were beginning early and Uther demanded his son’s presence. Of course, everyone would be showing off their kingdom's wealth and having their servants nearby to summon at a moment's notice was part of the peace talks. Merlin was not looking forward to standing in a corner of the room for three days, but it couldn’t be helped.

Despite the fact that the prince knew the importance of the day, he was still completely unwilling to wake up. Merlin had gone through his usual tactics which he had broken down into handy stages. He started with stage 1) calling out loudly “rise and shine!” and opening the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. This occasionally had an effect but usually it was only the predecessor to step 2) vigorous shaking. Arthur responded to this one more often, but usually it took until step 3) unceremoniously ripping the blankets off the prince, to get him up.

Today Merlin had to go all the way to step 4) shoving a roll into his mouth and dragging him off the bed and onto the cold stone floor. This normally would be by far enough for Arthur, who would jump up from the cold stone floor as soon as possible and throw whatever object was nearest at Merlin who’d grown quite adept at dodging it, but this morning he stood up lethargically, still looking half asleep.

Merlin decided it was time to invent stage 5 and threw a glass of water in his face. This seemed to wake him up as he stood dripping for a few seconds before securing the nearest object and hurling it at his servant. Fortunately, it was a pillow.

Besides the moment of normal Arthur behavior, the prince seemed a bit out of sorts Merlin noticed, not rising to any of Merlin’s gibes at his weight as he was dressed, only snapping at his servant a few times,

“Can’t you find something warmer, Merlin? It’s freezing today!”

The gently cool autumn breeze could hardly be classified as “freezing” but Merlin simply gave the prince a skeptical look and found a winter jacket for him.

Merlin made the bed, as usual, keeping up a steady stream of his usual sarcastic conversation while Arthur ate breakfast. The prince stood up from his meal after a few minutes,

“If you would kindly _not_ take four hours making my bed this morning, that would be wonderful Merlin. My father is expecting me to be _on time_.” Merlin moved to clear the dishes from the table, noticing that the plates were not as clean as usual.

“Right away sire, but are you sure you don’t want to finish your breakfast? You’ll need your strength up for the long hours ahead and you’re looking a bit peaky after last night.” He smirked.

“Shut up Merlin.” The comment had been meant as a joke, but Merlin noticed that the prince did look paler than usual, as he searched somewhat subduedly for something under the bed. “Merlin where are my boots?” He caught his servant’s look, “what are you staring at?”

“Are you feeling alright Arthur?” Merlin questioned. The prince looked annoyed,

“What do you mean ‘am I feeling alright?’ I’m feeling fine.” Merlin gave him a look. Arthur rolled his eyes and took on a superior expression, “Ah. I see what this is about. You want me to be ill so that I can’t go to the peace treaties and you don’t have to stand in the corner.” This felt very unfair when the comment truly had stemmed from concern, but Arthur held his finger up as Merlin opened his mouth to protest,  
“Uh uh uh, Merlin I know it’s not fun, but you’re going to have to bear with it. It’s an honor really, you’re one of the servants that shows off Camelot’s wealth, and you get to show how honored you are in being my servant.”

“I could do without either honor,” Merlin muttered, putting any concern for Arthur out of his mind. If the prat had a headache from last night it served him right.

“What was that?” Merlin put on an extremely false smile,

“Nothing sire, are you ready?”

***************

The peace talks were every bit as boring as Merlin expected. His legs aching from standing in place for hours, he welcomed the hour-long break midday and stretched his legs with pleasure.

As the afternoon rolled around he entertained himself by imagining amusing ways he could mess with the meeting using magic if it wasn’t quite so dangerous.

He had grown so interested in a scenario in which Uther squawked like a chicken every seven words that he almost failed to notice Arthur’s discreet summons. Most of the nobles around the table summoned their servants for one thing or another a few times during the day so it wasn’t unusual. Merlin had rather been hoping Arthur would send him to do a few more things.

“Merlin, fetch me some water.” Arthur had been clearing his throat at fairly regular intervals even stifling a cough or two, the most recent one loud enough to earn a glare from Uther. Merlin was disappointed in the simplicity of the assigned task, simply getting a goblet from the other side of the room and filling it from the pitcher.

The prince’s dry throat didn’t seem to be helped much by the water and he continued to clear his throat, embarrassed, but unable, it seemed, to help it. Merlin was kept busy refilling the goblet every so often for the next several hours.

The meeting was still very boring and Merlin noticed Arthur surreptitiously rubbing his temples as the nobles argued on into the late afternoon.

The amount of water the prince had drunk had had a predictable effect on him and after several minutes of unconsciously bouncing his leg, Arthur excused himself for a few moments-more unusual than summoning a servant but still not a horrible breach of conduct to relieve oneself, and left the hall, Merlin trailing behind.

The heavy doors closed behind them and as soon as they were out of earshot, Arthur coughed. It was harder than he had allowed himself in the council chambers and it was obvious he had been suppressing it for a while.

As he came back from the outhouse, Merlin noticed that Arthur’s pale complexion from that morning had not left, but was now accented by a flush, high on the prince’s cheekbones. He had not noticed the change earlier, he kept his head down, filling the prince’s goblet as quickly as possible (despite Arthur’s expressed feelings to the contrary, he did want to put Camelot in a good light), but now, facing the prince straight on, he frowned as Arthur moved to go back to the hall.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Arthur?” Arthur turned on him grumpily,

“Am I feeling alright? Of course, I’m not feeling alright, sitting and listening to all of them argue for hours on end is enough to give anyone a wanging headache, Merlin!” He pressed his fingers into his eyes for a brief moment.

“Perhaps it would be best to go back to your chambers a bit early then,” Merlin suggested. Arthur sighed with annoyance,

“Yes that would be nice, wouldn’t it _Merlin_? Unfortunately, my father is the king and he expects me to be there.”

“All I’m saying is I’m sure your father would understand if you’re ill—“

“I am not ill!” The prince’s voice was louder than necessary, “it’s just a bit of a headache, I’m not a _girl_ Merlin, I can handle it.” He turned and stalked back to the hall, leaving Merlin to follow him, lips thinned in annoyance and perhaps a bit worry.

********

Both boys hailed the end of the discussions for the day with great relief. Fortunately, the proceedings had taken enough of a toll on everyone else that the meal that evening was somewhat more subdued than the night before and relatively short.

Even so, Merlin was nearly counting the minutes until Arthur could reasonably excuse himself. He had not failed to notice the occasional shiver that the prince attempted to stifle as he picked at his food, hugging his jacket more tightly around his broad shoulders as the flush deepened slightly against his pale complexion.

It was clear that Arthur’s reluctance to wake from that morning was due to more than a hangover. Gwen caught Merlin’s eye from across the hall and frowning, nodding her head in Arthur’s direction as Merlin shrugged helplessly.

Merlin willed the king to see that his son was unwell and excuse him from the next day’s proceedings but Uther, focused on a story from one of the other nobles, only gave his son an absentminded “good night, see you in the morning, Arthur” as the prince finally rose from the table and left the meal.

They ran into Gwen in the hall near Morgana’s chambers who smiled sympathetically and held out a vial. “It can’t be easy to sit there and listen to those arguments all day, it would give anyone a headache. I asked Gaius if he had anything and he gave me this.” She handed it to Arthur who took it gently, his hands lingering on hers.

“Thank you, Guinevere, that was very thoughtful.” She smiled, but her expression was worried,

“Of course. But Arthur?” He looked at her questioningly as she looked down at their intertwined hands. “Perhaps you should ask your father for a day off tomorrow, to rest?” Arthur squeezed her hand gently,

“I appreciate your concern, Gwen but I’ll be fine.” She nodded, a bit doubtfully, and turned away.

“Well, make sure you take that, so I didn’t visit Gaius for nothing!”

“Thank you, Gwen!” Merlin called after her. She turned with a smile and an understanding glance passed between them as Merlin smiled gratefully at her foresight.

*********

Arthur slumped with exhaustion as soon as he entered his chambers, leaning on the table as he pulled off his jacket and then his shirt.

“Tamp down the fire for heavens sakes, Merlin! It was freezing in the dining hall but it’s blazing in here.” His words had far less bite than usual and he sat down in a chair, leaning his head in his hands.

Merlin set the nightclothes on the bed and uncharacteristically refrained from answering with sarcasm.

“Let’s get you undressed.” He said simply, pulling the prince up more gently than usual and helped him out of his clothing and into his nightshirt. He paused as they finished, placing the back of his hand against Arthur’s forehead. The fever was warm on the prince’s skin, not too high, but undeniably there.

“What are you doing?” Arthur questioned. The words were more tinted with exhaustion than Arthur’s more usual annoyance and he didn’t pull immediately away from the touch, almost imperceptibly leaning into it. Merlin didn’t answer but handed him a blanket as the Prince shivered slightly.

“You’re ill Arthur.” He handed him Gwen’s vial, “drink up.” Arthur drank without protest, hardly grimacing slightly at the taste before pulling the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. Merlin pulled back the blankets on the bed, “I’ll send someone to tell the king, you should rest tomorrow.” Arthur jerked around,

“No. Do not tell my father. I’ll be fine, I just need a night's rest. Don’t tell my father.”

“But sire—“

“Merlin, my father expects me to be there. I need to be there.”

“Arthur, you are not needed, there is no good reason—“

“It is necessary for the king to be part of the talks. I will be king one day and I must be ready.”

“You are not the king yet Arthur, and people would understand if you’re ill even if you were the king!”

“My father—“

“Your father should not expect you to kill yourself, especially when you are not needed, over these stupid talks!” Merlin was almost shouting, but lowered his voice as a wince passed over the Prince’s expression.

Arthur’s tone was icy, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand Merlin. I’m the future king of Camelot and my father expects me to be there.” He got into bed and turned away, pulling up the blankets tightly as Merlin fumed.

Merlin blew out the candle, a bit more forcefully than necessary, and turned toward the door.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure you wake me up in time tomorrow. Don’t let me sleep in.” Merlin paused for a moment as the roughness of the prince’s voice argued against his words. “Please, Merlin.” There was something in Arthur’s tone that stopped the warlock as he contemplated refusing. Perhaps the dimness of the chamber combined with the illness allowed a bit more into the words than Arthur would have normally allowed, but the pleading and, what was it? Fear, in the prince’s voice was unmistakable.

Merlin felt his chest tighten slightly at Arthur’s words and turned back with a small smile, “Alright Arthur.”

He opened the door and slipped out quietly, concern painting his features as he thought about the next day.

******

“He’s ill Gaius! Not horribly ill but he’s certainly not feeling well and he’ll only get worse if he doesn’t rest. But he’s being a stubborn prat and refuses to let anyone tell Uther!” Gaius patted his shoulder,

“Give him these tomorrow Merlin, they’ll bring down his fever and help with his cough but only temporarily. And make sure he eats something before he takes them or they’ll upset his stomach. They’re very strong and work quite effectively, but I can’t give him more than one dosage. It works quickly but wears off just as quickly and it’s certainly only temporary, however, well he might feel.” Merlin took the bottles gratefully as Gaius hauled him up from the bench, “now off to bed with you. You can’t help Arthur feel better by worrying all night.”

“Gaius?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t think I could maybe use a bit of magic and—“

“No. I most certainly do not, that would be very foolish. I never liked those particular potions I gave you because they have almost the effect of magic, but it is quite easy for a patient to become more ill after taking them because they feel well and use up their strength. But it is, as I said, very effective. There is no need for magic. Now off to bed Merlin before you think up any more foolish plans and get yourself executed.”

******

Merlin moved more quietly than usual as he set up Arthur’s breakfast and chose his clothes the next morning. There was no point in waking the prince up any earlier than necessary.

The bedclothes on the bed were far more scattered than usual and Arthur had clearly been tossing, first wrapping the blankets tightly and then pushing them away.

Merlin took a moment to feel his fever, still low but not gone, before gently shaking the prince. He was met with incoherent mumbling. He wetted a rag and placed it on the back of Arthur’s neck, knowing the cold would wake him up but no doubt feel very good on his fevered skin.

Merlin gently persuaded the prince out of bed, Arthur looked miserable and began shivering as soon as he left the warm mattress but was quite well enough to remark that someone must have possessed Merlin with magic because the Merlin _he_ knew would never wake anyone up without throwing them on the floor.

“Don’t worry Sire, I’ll be back to normal in a few days” Merlin retorted, helping Arthur into his clothing and several lighter jackets which would be easy to discreetly layer or remove during the meeting. He gestured to the table, “let’s get some food into you.” Arthur sat down but toyed impatiently with his food, barely eating.

“What is this? I’m not going to eat this! I’ve lost my appetite.”

 _Or you never had it in the first place and don’t want to admit it_ Merlin thought, but he held out the vials from Gaius.

“Gaius gave me these. They’ll help you feel better temporarily since you refuse to rest, but you have to eat first or you’ll be sick to your stomach.”

“I’m already going to be sick to my stomach eating this,” Arthur mumbled but began eating as Merlin watched like a hawk until he deemed it safe.

It was clear that the prince truly wasn’t feeling well, he had been coughing all morning worse than the day before and seemed exhausted, his face still pale with the flush of fever painted high on his cheeks.

He took the vials and drank them gratefully, resting his head in his hands for a moment.

“How long will they take?” Merlin stowed the empty vials in his pocket,

“Gaius said they’ll work quickly, you should be feeling better in the next ten minutes or so.”

Gaius was as good as his word. Within ten minutes Arthur’s coughing had all but disappeared and the flush had faded, leaving a still pale but slightly healthier complexion. Arthur’s prat-liness seemed to have returned in full as well, Merlin observed.

“Merlin, honestly, a snail is fast compared to you!”

“Almost ready _sire_ , I understand that you don’t wish to miss a moment of those riveting peace talks.” Arthur cuffed him over the head.

********

The morning moved almost more slowly than the day before if possible. Merlin was growing bored of his “entertaining magical scenarios game” and had switched over to watching the sun as it moved oh-so-slowly across the stone floor.

Arthur was clearly feeling much better than the day before, going so far as to make several contributions to the conversation which seemed to be well-received, earning a proud shoulder slap from Uther.

Just when it seemed a break would never come, the party broke for the midday meal. Arthur was clearly in good spirits, his father was proud, he had made a very helpful suggestion, and he was feeling much better than earlier.

Gwen managed to secure a minute with Merlin asking, “How is he? He looks better.” Merlin shook his head,

“He’s not. It’s the potion from Gaius but it’ll wear off.” Gwen twisted a lock of hair,

“How was he this morning?”

“Not good. He shouldn’t be up.” He paused, “Gwen, I don’t suppose you would be willing to check in after the feast tonight...”

“Of course Merlin, I’ll be there as soon as I’ve finished with Morgana.”

******

The nobles trooped back into the council room and commenced the afternoon’s discussion as Merlin resumed his spot in the corner. He realized with sudden unease that Gaius had not told him how long Arthur’s medicine would last, only that he didn’t dare give him more than one dose. He positioned himself in a slightly better spot so as to observe the prince. He seemed well enough and Merlin relaxed. The next two hours passed very slowly.

At about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, a small cough from Arthur drew Merlin’s attention. It was not bad, but Arthur hadn’t coughed since that morning and Merlin quickly glanced over.

He watched with concern. It was apparent that Gaius hadn’t been lying when he said that the potion wore off as quickly as it took effect. Merlin could almost see the Prince’s fever rise as his complexion turned pale and the crimson flush deepened. He coughed again, harder, and Merlin, sensing the need, hurried over with a goblet.

“Arthur,” he said quietly, “you should ask to be excused.” Arthur seemed to consider it for a brief moment before glancing at his father and shaking his head,

“I’m fine Merlin, we’ll be done in an hour.” His voice was low and Merlin could feel his hand trembling slightly as he took the goblet.

“But the feast...” Arthur waved him off,

“Leave me.”

Merlin sighed and resumed his spot.

*****  
The hour had done nothing to help Arthur who steadied himself against the table as he stood when the peace talks for the day concluded and the nobles began dispersing for the feast.

Merlin hurried over, knowing Arthur would rather fall over than be helped out of the room, but wanting to be nearby all the same. He felt a flash of anger toward Uther who barely spared a glance toward his son, focused instead on Lord something-or-other and his grazing grounds.

Morgana hurried into the room as most of the nobles left, touching Uther’s arm with a pleading look who excused himself from his conversation.

“Yes, Morgana?”

“I wish to speak to Arthur of a matter of great importance.”

“Very well? You do not need my permission for that my dear.” Morgana nodded,

“Yes but I fear it would be best to talk to him sooner than later, may he miss the feast?” Uther frowned,

“I would prefer he be there Morgana.” Morgana caught Merlin’s eye for a brief moment as Merlin realized that Gwen must have enlisted her to help before she smiled up at the King,

“Please?” Uther smiled,

“Very well Morgana, if Arthur agrees.” He turned and followed the remaining nobles from the chamber. Arthur looked at the king’s ward with concern,

“What’s the matter, Morgana?” She turned with a frown,

“The matter is that you need to listen to Merlin and get some rest!” Arthur laughed weakly,

“Morgana—“ his words were cut off as a coughing fit effectively discredited his protest. He leaned against the table and Merlin placed a steadying hand on his back,

“Let’s get you to your chambers, sire.” He returned Morgana’s worried smile with a grateful glance and a reassuring nod as he guided the prince toward the door.

Arthur still had the strength to shrug Merlin’s hand off his back with a peevish,

“I can walk Merlin” before steadying himself against the wall. Merlin raised his eyebrows,

“Obviously.”

Merlin sighed with relief as they entered Arthur’s chambers, noticing the fire Gwen had built with gratitude.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and slowly pulled off his boots, his eyes somewhat glazed, Merlin noticed with concern.

Beads of sweat dotted the prince’s face, but he pulled back as Merlin tried to take off the layers of jackets, hugging them tighter and shivering. Merlin frowned and gently felt the prince’s forehead with the back of his hand.

The heat was unmistakable. The prince’s fever had risen higher in the short walk from the council chambers. Perhaps his body knew that he no longer had to feign wellness, perhaps it was bound to happen, but he was no longer nominally ill.

“Arthur” Merlin’s voice was calm, “you’re feverish. I’m going to need to take off your jackets, I know it feels cold but please trust me on this.” Arthur nodded and allowed his servant to peel off the layers of clothing.

Merlin’s expression was grim as he helped the prince into a light nightshirt, feeling the heat radiating from his body. Arthur coughed painfully, shoulders shaking as he sat on the edge of the bed. Merlin could hear the troubling difference from dry and shallow coughs from that morning to the deep and painful ones that shook the prince now. He was all too familiar with illness, particularly lung illness, having been particularly susceptible when he was young, and knew the suffocating fear that came as the coughing wouldn’t stop and it grew harder to draw in a breath.

He squeezed Arthur’s shoulder reassuringly,  
“You’re alright, Arthur. It’ll stop in a minute.” The coughing fit died down and Arthur carefully drew in a long breath, his eyes closed and exhaustion evident on his features.

The door creaked and Merlin looked over to see Gwen in the doorway.

“Gwen!” his tone was tinged with relief as she closed the door behind her and hurried over. Her expression was worried as she gently felt Arthur’s forehead, her frown deepening as her hand trailed down his cheek. He opened his eyes with a bit of confusion,

“Guinevere...” she pulled her hand away,

“I’m sorry Arthur, I—um....“ she turned to Merlin, “Merlin, he’s not well.” The warlock shook his head, “what do you need me to do?”

“Could you send someone for Gaius? I’m going to get him into bed and try to get his fever down, I’ll need some water and cloths.” Gwen nodded,

“I’ll send Morgana for Gaius, she wanted to do something and I’ll be right back with the water.” She turned toward the door but Merlin stopped her,

“No, wait, Gwen—send Morgana to tell the king, Arthur’s in no position to go to the peace talks tomorrow.”

“No.” Arthur had been sitting, shivering slightly as the two servants talked, but he interjected at Merlin’s words, “No, don’t tell my—“ his words were cut off by another painful coughing fit which he tried to talk through, “don’t—tell—the king.” Merlin rubbed between the prince’s shoulder blades and tried to quiet him,

“Arthur, don’t talk—“

“Please Merlin—“ Arthur’s voice was desperate and his coughing grew harder. Merlin set his jaw,

“Fine. Gwen, let Morgana get Gaius and we’ll hear what he has to say. I’m not promising anything Arthur, but we’ll hear Gaius’s opinion.” Gwen nodded and glanced back at Arthur with a worried expression as she hurried out. The prince’s coughing had died back down and Merlin placed a firm hand on his shoulder, “right then, let’s get you into bed dollop head.”

******

“I don’t think it’s wise for him to be left alone tonight, Merlin.” Gaius shook his head as listened to the prince’s breathing.

“Well of course not!” Merlin was slightly insulted, “but Gaius, we should tell the king, shouldn’t we?” Gaius nodded slowly,

“I’m afraid so.” He cut off the prince with a shake of his head as Arthur tried to protest, “I’m sorry your highness, but not only would it be foolish to go tomorrow, you would be miserable.” He nodded to Gwen who left to get Morgana. Arthur fell back on his pillow with exhaustion and took a shaky breath,

“It won’t do Gaius. He will make me come anyway, but now he’ll think I’m weak and not worthy of the throne.” It was unlikely that Arthur would have been quite so candid had his fever been lower, but Merlin frowned,

“Arthur he cares about you, he won’t make you come. Nobody would expect even a king to come.” Arthur shook his head,

“He’s made me work through illness before.” Gaius pursed his lips,

“When sire? I don’t remember a time you’ve had more than a cold or so in the last several years.” Arthur shook his head and turned away, but Gaius prodded him, “when did this happen?” Arthur spoke reluctantly,

“Three years ago I felt very ill and spent the night vomiting, I couldn’t keep anything down. He wouldn’t let me off when I told him and made me train with the knights for hours until I lost consciousness. When I woke up he was angry and said he didn’t think I would go to such lengths and sent me to my chambers. He wouldn’t let anyone get Gaius. I got better eventually, there was one servant who helped, but illness is not an excuse for my father, there’s nothing to do but work through it. Only battle wounds will persuade him—“ his breath caught at his words and he was overtaken by another coughing fit.

Merlin and Gaius exchanged a concerned glance as Merlin hurried over, helping Arthur to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit on the edge so as to breathe a little easier. Merlin moved his hand slowly over the prince’s back, feeling the tremors as Arthur continued coughing.

“It’s alright Arthur,” there was none of his usual sarcasm in his tone, “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be alright.”

The door opened and Uther entered. He glanced with concern over at his son, doubled over with coughing and struggling slightly to breathe, and rushed over to Gaius,

“What’s the matter with him, Gaius? Is it sorcery? If one of those nobles is using sorcery against my son to sabotage the peace talks—“

“No, my Lord.” Gaius cut him off gently, “it is not sorcery. Arthur is simply ill, but he is much worse than he might have been because he refused to rest.” Uther moved over to the prince while giving the physician a look of confusion.

“Why did he refuse?”

“He did not want you to know he was ill and refused to let anyone ask you if he could stay in his chambers instead of attending the peace talks.” Uther looked concerned, pulling off his glove and brushing his hand against his son’s flushed cheek.

“Well of course if it were something small I would not have excused him, but surely Arthur, you know that if you are truly ill, you should, of course, take time to recover.” Arthur simply lowered his eyes as Merlin helped him lay back down,

“Yes, father.” Uther shook his head,

“Well, do you understand truly? Because I don’t know why you did this.” A flash of anger rose up inside Merlin, _do you really not know why, Uther?_ but he addressed the king calmly,

“Sire, if I may?” The king nodded,

“Yes, please Merlin, tell me what is going on in that foolish head of his.” Arthur shook his head,

“Merlin—“

“You gave him the impression that nothing less than deathly illness, or perhaps not even that, is an acceptable excuse to you, or apparently to the people of Camelot as their future king,” Merlin spoke rather bitterly. Uther looked affronted,

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Merlin—” Merlin ignored Arthur’s interjection,

“He told us of a time when he was very ill several years ago and you refused to let him off of his duties.” Uther looked confused,

“Do you speak of the time soon after the nobles of Nemeth left? That was the last time he complained of illness that I remember.” Merlin looked at Arthur who nodded reluctantly. Uther gave a short laugh, “well of course I wasn’t going to let him off, he was sulking because he did not like that I had suggested he marry the Princess Mithian and was faking to prove a point.” Arthur looked up, clearly trying to disguise the hurt  
In his eyes.

“I wasn’t faking, Father.” He spoke quietly, trying to avoid another coughing fit. Uther frowned,

“You were truly ill?” Arthur nodded. “Well...why on earth didn’t you have Gaius look at you? I would have of course believed you—“

“You wouldn’t let anyone fetch Gaius.” Arthur’s words were free from the anger Merlin would have inflected, a simple reminder to his father. Uther looked down silently for a long moment.

“No...no I didn’t, did I?” He acknowledged. He looked at his son, sadness in his eyes. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry Arthur. Believe me, I truly thought...but no. I shouldn’t have.” He shook his head, “I thought that you were simply extraordinarily healthy, but I suppose now that you simply never acknowledged your illness. I’m so sorry, Arthur—” The prince began coughing again, but he reached out and took his father’s hand.

They sat, grasping each other’s hands as the violent coughing fit took its toll, finally, dying away.

The king smiled sadly at his son before looking up suddenly, clearing his throat, “Gaius! What can we do for him?” Gaius approached the bed,

“He is sire, perhaps in danger of becoming dangerously ill, but he is not yet. I think it would be best for you to retire for the night and prepare for tomorrow. We will, of course, fetch you if need be, but I do not think it will be necessary. I would not worry too much.” The king stood and nodded,

“Right. Thank you, Gaius, take care of him.” He paused and put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “thank you, Merlin.” His voice was low as Gaius tended to Arthur, “I’m afraid he would never have told me if you hadn’t.” His face tightened, “It is a hard thing for a parent to hear, that you have hurt your child, Merlin, but I needed to hear it. I appreciate your loyalty to him.” Merlin nodded,

“Of course Sire.” The king nodded and left the room.

******

With Uther’s reassurance and the peace talks the next day no longer demanding his presence, it was almost as if Arthur’s body finally gave itself full permission to be ill, and his fever spiked.

Gwen, Merlin, and even Morgana took turns, sponging the feverish prince as he tossed, shivering one minute and sweating the next, helping him sit up as the coughing racked his body.

Hours passed, Gaius’s mouth was set in a tight line as Arthur began muttering, exchanging a look with Merlin, who placed a calming hand on the prince’s shoulder,

“It’s alright Arthur.” Arthur struggled under his touch and looked up with a wide, feverish gaze, “it’s just me, Merlin.”

“My father—don’t tell my father—“ the prince broke off coughing, and Merlin glanced again at Gaius who nodded.

“I won’t tell the king, Arthur.” He reassured, the years of fear to show any illness would not be fixed in a night. The words had their effect as Arthur relaxed back against the pillow, closing his eyes as Merlin placed a cool rag on his forehead.

Finally, he fell asleep.

********

“Why don’t I have any sausages, Merlin?” Arthur looked down at his plate with a frown, “you’d better not be trying to keep me in shape again!” Merlin grinned,

“Well, there’s nothing like being ill for several days to get you back in shape when you’ve been putting on a few pounds so I didn’t need to.”

“I was not—I was not “putting on pounds” before my illness!” Arthur spluttered

“Well, you’re not now.” Merlin ducked as a pillow came flying in his direction. “But I didn’t take your sausages, you can’t eat sausages when you’re recovering from being ill.” Arthur rolled his eyes,

“Well, I’m certainly not eating...this.” He gestured to the porridge. Merlin smiled,

“Yeah, you will. You can’t have anything else until you do, Gaius’s orders.” Arthur glared daggers at his servant who cheerfully grinned back. He grimaced at the bowl but reluctantly began to eat.

“And when does Gaius “order” I can get back to training?” He questioned a few minutes later.

“A few more days at least.” Arthur groaned loudly,

“They’ll get soft.” Merlin shrugged with a look of mock sympathy and cleared away the dishes. Arthur huffed, and looked out the window. “Can I at least get out of bed?” Merlin turned, putting the dishes on the table.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—and you’ve already done it.” Arthur swung himself out of the bed and stood up,

“I don’t see why not.” He turned slightly pale and Merlin rushed over to steady him.

“Would you just listen to what your told and stay in bed for once?” To his credit, Arthur looked repentant as Merlin helped him back into bed with annoyance. The prince was silent for a moment,

“I guess listening once in a while is something I could work on.” Merlin huffed,

“You think? You really are a clot pole, you know that?” He looked up from arranging the blankets and saw Arthur’s eyes fixed seriously on him, “what?”

“Thank you, Merlin.” The words were sincere. Merlin returned the gaze with a grin,

“Well someone’s got to look out for you when you’re being a dollop head.” His expression softened and he gave a small nod, “you’re welcome Arthur.”


End file.
